There may be a time and a place for everything. The difficulty is figuring out when and where.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Because I Know You're Dying for Information

So. I have gone on the date with Trans Am.

While the date itself was fine (good conversation, not horrible food, etc.), to describe all of this would be boring. But imagine the following scene:

Setting: The Parking Garage

Trans Am walks Crazy to her car (we met at the restaurant because he was coming from work, it was more convenient, etc.) and they say goodbye, exchanging the pleasantries that come at the end of a successful date. Trans Am goes off to his own car, which is parked nearer to the exit of the garage (not the Trans Am, incidentally, but another of his hot cars, for today it was rainy, and this is the car he drives in the rain). Crazy, like any self-respecting gossip, starts up her car but also busts out her cell phone to call Medusa on the phone to report. She drives toward the exit, and there is Trans Am, revving the engine of his other hot car (which I will give the pseudonym of "Sally.") So there is Trans Am, revving Sally's engine, and Crazy pretends she does not notice and drives right past, toward the exit. There are two exit lanes, and Trans Am attempts to come alongside Crazy (who is talking on the phone, which she's really not good at doing while driving, but in order to continue her conversation she manages to keep Trans Am one car length behind her) in Sally. Imagine the continuing revs of the hot car engine. Just as Crazy is about to turn onto the highway, Sally speeds forward, with Trans Am beeping the horn in salute as Sally zooms past Crazy.

Who does that? It was kind of awesome, though, like a public declaration of admiration via the automobile.

But so if he asks me out again I'll go. I like him. He's nice. Sure, he's unadventurous with food, and sure, we are very different, but that's ok. I had a good time. In fact, looking back over the Dating History of Crazy, this might have been the least fucked up date I've ever been on. That's not to say I've had all bad dates, but, well, none of them has been so adult and pleasant and fun. (Some have been more fun, but not as pleasant and definitely not adult, so I think that this is a step in the right direction - although a much less Crazy direction than I'm used to.)

"Who does that?" ....I've got an idea: boys who like toys! Beware the boys who like toys...like Crazy's dad and Anastasia's dad, my dad (who has a corvette and another fancy schmancy little red sportster) would also totally do that, and he is the epitome of the man-mantra: He who dies with the most toys wins!...This is not a good thing.

My father used to have a Trans Am in the 70s. Not the one with the bird painted on the hood, just a metallic-glittery red Firebird Trans Am. I was horrified and humiliated that he, a man in his 50s, possessed this particular car. Anyway, I don't recall him revving the engine, but I vividly remember that he used to give a little beep to every other Trans Am he saw on the road. And when he first got it, he washed it every single day.

EE - no, he's in the rainmobile, also a trans-am like vehicle although not as old school. The nickname "Sally" is a clue. I know it was confusing - it's really hard to write about a guy named Trans Am, but, alas, this is the name with which he is stuck :)